


It's Not Goodbye

by ab2fsycho



Series: Revolve [26]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: M/M, at last, imagine a reunion, this is it, this is the end, we've reached it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond has but one last thing to discuss with Layton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Goodbye

“What do you want Master?” That had been the final question. What was there to want? Was there anything? He could think of several things right off the top of his head, but none of them . . . . “Not what you need. What you want.”

“Hershel?”

His tone struck a familiar cord in Layton. Desmond could see it. The younger bristled as he looked up from his cuppa. “What is it Desmond?”

The elder of the two men stood before the other. His hands were ringing behind his back, his brow furrowed.

“You can do anything you want now,” Raymond reiterated in his head. Desmond could see his faithful servant sitting across from him again, stroking Keats and waiting intently. “There’s no more obligation.” No more Jean Descole. That was what he was really saying. “There’s no need to hide.”

But what did he want?

“I have something I,” desperately, “need to discuss with you.”

Layton swallowed hard. Desmond could see his throat bob as he set down his cup of tea and gripped his cane. He had waited till Layton was well enough to return to his own daily routine to bring this up. He still felt like he had not waited long enough. He still felt he could delay this just a little longer. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Professor.”

Formalities. Did he already guess?

“I have lived a full life, son.” Raymond’s voice was as clear in Desmond’s mind as his thoughts. Clear, loud, impossible to ignore. “I have seen many wonders with you. In my wildest dreams I could not have fathomed the adventures we have had.” A wrinkled and steady hands ran across the purring tuxedo feline’s back.

“Everything I have sought to accomplish has been. All that’s left for me to do,” Desmond paused, taking a deep breath, “is to settle my estates and return to work.”

Layton nodded slowly. “What work do you mean?” Yes, what work indeed? Desmond had prepared for everything save for Layton’s questions.

Save for the brace he could see in the man’s frame.

He was bracing.

“You still have much ahead of you,” Raymond’s words resonated. “The sights we have seen may double. Triple. There is no reason for you to settle.” Desmond’s throat clenched even now. “You may have succeeded at what you have set out to do in life.”

“I have places I need to return to.” Sights he still longed to see. “So much of me . . . is defined by my time devoted to destroying Targent.” To finding the Azran and what they had left behind. “That part of me . . . that journey is over and done with now.”

“It is.”

“Perhaps it is time to move on, Desmond. Find a new life.”

There was another voice in Desmond’s head. It was clear as day, no matter the number of years that had passed since the event that had led him to scream those words. A father desperate to hold his daughter again, shouting, “I don’t want a new life.” Desmond had understood that man on an intrinsic level then. He understood him now.

“What about you?” Desmond had asked Raymond.

The old man had smiled. “I already have.” In the time Raymond had been away from Desmond (still in the man’s services and yet independent), he had befriended Rosa, the lady who had cleaned Layton’s office at Gressenheller for years. That was how Raymond had gotten so much of Desmond’s belongings to Layton without appearing in person. Raymond had adopted Keats and recruited him. Raymond and Rosa were courting and Raymond was looking at retiring with her on his arm and the cat in his other. The man had been so loyal to Desmond that he could not deny him his rest. For a man who had lived a full life, it seemed Raymond had not stopped living at all.

But what about Desmond?

What did he want?

Go home. Settle. Travel the world. Discover something new.

Live.

Live life.

Free.

Desmond was free.

Desmond, free and alive, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He looked over the professor before him. “I have many things I still need to do in order to officially close this portion of my life for good. I still have a home to return to.” One he had not been to in so, so long. “It is . . . hardly my home anymore.”

This was why he had given it to Raymond.

“Where is home for you?”

This was it. “Here,” Desmond murmured, eyes still closed. “If . . . you would have me.”

There was a deadness in the air that he couldn’t, for the life of him, for into dissipation. There were words trapped on his tongue. A promise that Descole was forever gone. The outfit had been burned, the sword put away, the personality satisfied. A promise to help with finances. He was wealthy and still had so much he could share. A promise to stay . . . .

A promise to leave . . . if asked . . . . 

He had many promises. Promises he had been dying to make upon his success. Promises he had denied himself for so, so long. He had so many promises left to make. He just needed to make them.

He had so many things he still wanted to do . . . but he did not want to do them alone.

The cane dropped to the floor with a clatter that startled Desmond’s eyes open just before Layton’s arms were thrown around his shoulders. Desmond stared blankly at the wall behind the professor, arms wrapping just as tightly around Layton’s waist. “I haven’t been asked for someone to stay.” Only to leave. Desmond heard those unspoken words, felt them sink in with the warmth of the other’s hold. The usually stoic professor . . . Desmond could feel wetness on his neck. “I would have you.”

Desmond buried his face in the crook of Layton’s shoulder.

“It’s time to go home,” Raymond’s voice faded in Desmond’s mind.

Because he was already home.

(:)

The following year Luke returned to Mistahallery. He was taller than Flora now, the two walking arm in arm. He had grown from a sweater and suspenders to a jacket and button down. His hat had not changed.

 

Luke and Flora were greeted by many familiar faces. Emmy, Grosky, Chelmey, Raymond, Rosa, Randal, Angela, Henry, Don Paolo, some faces from old adventures, a few faces from new . . . .

The professor’s face was the last for them to see, but it was as welcome a face as it had always been.

Even when paired with the face of the older professor.

There were still marks on the buildings from the attacks of the specter many years prior, but they had faded. Some were even painted over. The professors dragged hands and eyes over the edifices. So much had changed since that had last been here. So much had changed in the last few years.

The last lifetime.

Desmond Sycamore and Hershel Layton approached Luke Triton and Flora Reinhold, the two men similarly arm in arm as the younger pair. Flora greeted both warmly. Luke paused, staring in almost disbelief. Before then, it had been nothing but handshakes for the future English gentleman.

The greeting he gave Desmond and Layton was not a handshake.

It was the warmest of hugs, and a small, “Thank you,” in Desmond’s ear.

“For what?” There was little Luke had to thank him for. He had saved the boy’s life once, but that had been so long ago. Surely Luke did not mean that.

He was right. “For the professor.”

Desmond was confused at first, but then the young man pulled away. He looked to Layton and saw in his face something he must have grown accustomed to while living with the man. Working with the man.

A vibrant smile.

A youthful smile.

When Desmond had landed in the Layton’s home, bloody and disheveled, that smile had been gone. He did not know if that smile had been gone before he had arrived or before Luke had departed. He did not know.

But it was there now.

It was there, beaming back at Luke and Flora and him. Beaming at him of all people.

Desmond’s latest promise was to Luke Triton . . . .

To keep Professor Layton’s smile as brilliant as the day the man had his family back together.

He was honored to keep it.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a journey. This will most likely be the last long fanfiction I will write, but likely not the last fanfiction. Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me through the dips and curves, the disapperating muse, and the many stresses that come with small fandoms and unpopular ships. Thank you for your support . . . thank you for everything.
> 
> Finishing this story has finally given me closure on many things I have needed closure on.
> 
> Don't hesitate to keep messaging me loves. Without you, I would not be the writer I am today.
> 
> <3


End file.
